She still had control issues, but some things will
by mindless fear of fire
Summary: Haunted by bad dreams, Ros is sick of getting no sleep. It's time she stopped letting the water control her.


A/N: This is a Yuletide fic for londonspook, over on lj! I had totally meant to get it finished and posted for Christmas Day, but it ended up WAYYY longer than I had expected!

Its a Ros fic, and it kind of runs alongside season eight. I've spread the season out so that it lasts roughly a year - I figured that that should make sense. (It did in my head anyway! :) )

Contains **SPOILERS** for most of season eight!

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Sitting on the hard, blue plastic seat, Ros clenched her shaking hands as she listened to the sounds that echoed all around her. The yells and squeals were something that, even as a child, she had rarely appreciated. When she was younger, she had found them intimidating, imaging them to be mocking her as she stood apprehensively at the side of the swimming pool. She had huddled at the side for years, flinching each time somebody splashed her as they bombed into the water. It had been her father that finally persuaded her to get in, holding her tight despite the armbands she wore. She had been ten, and her father had decided that it was time for her to stop being so scared of everything. Over time, she had learnt to tolerate the water, forcing herself to conquer it, as it were, by learning to swim. She let herself arrogantly believe that, with the ability to swim, she had the control that she so desperately craved. That was until she almost drowned. In fact, she knew that if Adam hadn't been there, she would have drowned. Adam had pulled her back up to the grate when she had given up, and had, inadvertently, given her the courage to keep fighting for her life. Even though she was a much slower swimmer, he had stayed beside her as they swam towards the divers, helping her into the boat first, and wrapping an arm around her as they skimmed across the water in the speedboat.

She hadn't been in the water since.

The dreams had been incessant in the first few months afterwards, but, as was her penchant, she ignored them, immersing herself in work and surviving on coffee. After a while, they disappeared, and if she was honest, Ros had believed that she had buried the whole incident deeply enough that she would never have to think about it again. But, ever since Adam's death, the nightmares had plagued her. She had a fair idea as to why, though she would never admit it out loud. With her father in prison, she had allowed Adam to, in part, fill the hole he had left behind. She had fought it hard, but the comforting feel of his arm around her in the boat was too reminiscent of that of her father, and her subconscious had latched onto that. Now, with Adam gone too, that hole was bigger than ever. Even with everything that was going on over the last year, Ros had known that she could rely on two things. First, that Harry would always be there, whether it be to exchange ideas and form a plan during an operation, or as an equally lonely figure on the Grid as the two worked away late into the night. Secondly, that several times a week, she would wake up in a cold sweat after yet another nightmare. They always ran along the same theme these days – Ros was back in the Thames Barrier, and it was flooding. Sometimes Adam never came, and she was left tied to the pole as the water filled up around her. Other times, Adam did come, but didn't pull her back up, instead leaving her to watch him swim for the surface without her. And in others, the worst ones, she found herself clutching Adam with all her might, terrified that he might leave her. In these ones, Adam always drowned, unable to get them out with her clinging to him. Each time, it was just as the realisation that she was alone sank in that she began to really panic, and usually woke herself up.

But then one of those things had changed. Harry was taken, and Ros was left once again. She coped, just about, but not without managing to snap at Malcolm and almost break down in front of Lucas. She had been scared that she wouldn't be able to save Harry, just like she hadn't been able to save her father, or Adam. And when she found him, tied to a chair and staring at Ruth, she realised that she had come to rely yet again on a man that she had no business relying on.

It was this knowledge that had, indirectly, led her to this chair. Relying on her boss and bad dreams to provide stability in her life was not healthy; even she could see that. Plus, quite frankly, she was sick of getting no sleep. Burying herself in work was clearly not going to get rid of the nightmares, so she would have to try different tactics. It was at four forty nine am, three days after she began her deliberations, that she made a drastic decision. Ros Myers was going to go swimming.

That morning, she had bought herself a swimming costume. It hadn't been something that she had felt the need to replace after returning from Russia, and she took little pleasure buying it now. Faced with rows and rows of different types, she had selected the first simple black one that was in her size, and left. It was the bubbles of panic that she had felt just by buying the suit that made her realise just how difficult this was going to be. Stuffing it out of sight, she pushed it out of her mind and headed to work.

Sitting now in the uncomfortable spectator seats, she tried to remember the breathing techniques she had been taught as a child to control her panic attacks. She hadn't had an attack since she was fifteen and the captain of the rugby team had tried to force her to give him a blowjob at a party. As the panic began to overwhelm her, she closed her eyes and began to take deep breaths. '_In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth, and in through the nose, out through the mouth.'_ Keeping the silent mantra going, she thought back to her revenge on the rugby captain several years later. Sick of her fear, she had taken up self defence classes and, surprisingly, acting. Excelling at both, she learnt to hide her emotions and block out the panic, and, two years later, the kid had endured a bout of public humiliation and a well aimed kick made sure that nobody from her school would ever under-estimate her again. Sighing loudly, she wished this particular problem could be as easily solved.

Once her breathing was back under control, Ros opened her eyes again. Concentrating on the pool itself, she tuned out the sounds. Logically, there was nothing to be afraid of. It was only twenty five metres long, and for the first ten metres it was only one metre deep. Then it sloped down steadily, to a depth of three metres at the deep end. Dragging her eyes away from the deeper part of the pool, she examined the shallow end again. She could hunker in that water, and it would still only be up to her chin. But even as she looked at the bag lying at her feet, she knew she wasn't getting in. Not today.

-One month later-

Ros nodded as she passed the reception staff. She had been coming at least every other day, just sitting in the stands and watching. Sometimes the pool was full, sometimes it was empty, but it made very little difference to her. Sitting down in her regular seat, she pushed her swim bag under her seat and began, as usual, to look for the lifeguards. Although she hadn't noticed them the first time she came, they had been the first thing that attracted her attention the following visit. Shortly after she had sat down, three sharp whistle blasts had echoed around the pool, and she had watched as a young man dived into the deep end to rescue an elderly woman who had become unconscious. Ros didn't know what was wrong with her, nor did she really care, but she had watched the whole episode with interest. As soon as the other lifeguards heard the whistle blasts, each began to clear everyone else out of the pool, before running to lift the woman out of the water. They way they pulled her out looked decidedly painful, but the whole thing was over within a minute. Since that, she had followed them, mentally cataloguing where each lifeguard was around the pool. There were four by the poolside at all times, some walking, some standing, and some sitting in raised chairs. What she had noticed though, was their ability to spot somebody in trouble, and get them to the side of the water, within thirty seconds. That helped. Relaxing back slightly, she smiled faintly as she noted a distinct lack of panic. It had been a few days since she had last been able to get here, and she had been worried things might have regressed. After an explosion at an oil plant, the UK found itself in severe need of imported oil, and it had fallen to the team in Section D to ensure negotiations went smoothly. Of course, nothing ever went as planned, but they had got their oil in the end. Ros had slipped out of the Grid shortly after they had received confirmation that the Russians had supplied the necessary oil, much to the surprise of her colleagues. She knew they were confused by her lately – she had been coming in later or leaving earlier, to fit in with the pool opening hours. It wasn't as if she was skipping work, but she would normally be in at the crack of dawn and working until late at night. Harry in particular was bemused, while Jo was under the impression that she was seeing someone. To be honest, they could think what they liked, because the dreams were lessening, if only slightly.

Glancing around, she couldn't help but wonder if Jo would be OK. Ros cared for the younger woman more than she cared to admit, and she knew Jo would take Bebe's suicide badly. Having been the one to convince her to shoot Urazov, she would blame herself. Ros made a mental note to take her out for a drink if she seemed to be struggling. Leaning forward, she shook thoughts of work from her mind, and watched a girl as she swam lengths of the pool. She was there a lot, always swimming a huge number of laps at incredible speed. Ros couldn't help but admire her ability, finding the repetition mesmerising as she sat there. After a while, Ros realised her bum had gone numb from sitting for so long, and she awkwardly stood up. Reaching for her bag, she decided that tomorrow, she was getting in.

-Next day-

Standing in the changing room, Ros stared at the swimming costume in her hands. It still had the tags attached, and even as she ripped them off she knew she would rather just take it back to the shop. Breathing deeply, she dropped the costume onto the shelf and sat down heavily beside it. The smell of chlorine seemed stronger here, although Ros knew that that was likely only her imagination. She stared at her shaking hands for a moment, before pushing herself up determinedly and stripping off her clothes. Grabbing the costume again, she eyed it apprehensively. It was only when she began to shiver from the cold that she finally pulled it on, before putting her clothes back into the bag. She had already pushed the bag into the locker when she realised that she needed a pound to lock it, and roughly shoved her still shaky had in to find her purse, cursing the lockers silently.

Banging the locker closed, she groaned, leaning her forehead gently against the cold metal. It didn't take a genius to work out that she was taking her nerves out on the locker, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Spinning round, she pushed away heavily and strode towards the poolside, eyeing the now familiar lifeguards as she went. She stood for just a moment, trying to clamp down on the panic, before slowly lowering herself to a sitting position. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and hesitantly she allowed her toes to dip into the gently lapping water. Immediately she felt icy tendrils of panic grip her heart and lungs like a vice. Yanking her legs away from the water, she wrapped her arms around them as she struggled for breath. She was glad she had waited until eight o'clock before she had left work – with only an hour left until closing time the pool was almost empty. She welcomed the lack of noise, and focused slowly on getting enough air into her lungs. Shaking her head lightly, she tried to dispel the light headedness that came over her. Suddenly, she realised that one of the lifeguards had hopped off of his chair and was heading over towards her. Forcing a smile in his direction, she hurriedly dropped her legs back into the water, ignoring the sense of panic in an attempt to field off his questions. Turning her head slightly, she realised there would be no such luck.

"Are you OK Ma'am?" As he went to place a hand on her shoulder, she flinched imperceptibly before she could stop herself. Pulling his hand away, he looked at her in concern.

"Fine." Her tone was abrupt, and it had the effect her earlier actions had not. Straightening up, the lifeguard nodded at her, and went back to his chair.

As she turned back to the pool, she kept her legs in, pushing down the panic as it threatened to drown her. Even as she sat there, she couldn't help but find the irony in the fact that she felt like she was drowning before she was even fully in the water. Although she could feel the lifeguard watching her, she just sat in that same position. As she perched on the edge, she slowly began to move her legs, starting with miniscule twitches, before starting to swing them hesitantly through the water. She could feel the water swishing past her legs, and for once, she tried to relax in the sensation. She could never control the water, but it was time it stopped controlling her. Hearing a whistle blast from behind her, she was surprised to realise that it was closing time. Pulling her legs out, she felt a sense of relief, but it was a different type of relief. She was getting somewhere.

-Several weeks later-

Ros stormed onto the poolside, guilt cutting through her like a knife. She didn't notice the noise, the lifeguards – she was barely aware of anything. Plopping down into the water, she barely felt any panic filter through the mangle of different emotions already coursing through her body. She had been coming regularly, and so far had managed to walk around in the shallow end. She had even, on one occasion, done a strange imitation of the doggy paddle as she swam several metres back to the side of the pool. She had a fair idea that the lifeguards were somewhat used to her by now, and they let her be. Today, though, she was pissed. She pushed herself through the water, defiance lacing her every movement. Halfway down the shallow end, she pushed off the bottom, trying to remember the swimming strokes she had used as a child. As she struggled to stay afloat, she grinned manically. This is what she needed. _'Jo...'_ A tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly shook it off into the water. She kept seeing her, seeing the look of shock on her face, seeing the blood as it seeped out through her fingers, seeing her falling... Suddenly, Ros felt the panic. Even as she put her feet down, she realised that it was too late. She had swum past the shallow end, past even the decline. Looking forward, the distance to the far end seemed insurmountable, getting farther and farther the more she tried to reach it. Gasping for air, she dropped the breast stroke that she had been attempting, and tried to stay above the water using whatever means possible, but the panic kept building. As she slipped under the water, all she could see was that locked metal door, the locked grate... _'Oh God, not again, fuck...' _She was reaching up, desperately trying to get back to the surface, but it was as though she was being weighed down. She tried to scream, but immediately realised that that was the wrong thing to do. She could only watch as all the air from her lungs rushed to the surface, when suddenly she felt an arm sliding under her arm and gripping her around the chest. Grabbing onto the arm, she gulped in huge lung full's of air as she felt her head break the surface. Instinctively she tried to grab onto the person behind her, but a female voice rang out in her ear.

"Don't grab me, or I will leave you!" The authority in the voice made her stop moving immediately.

"Bloody hell," she spluttered, "don't leave!"

"Just relax and lie back." Ros did as instructed, and was surprised to feel the lifeguard spin her around towards the wall only a few seconds later. She was still gasping for air, and, as she tried to grab onto the side, she realised that she was shaking like a leaf. Turning her head, she saw a petite brunette lifeguard was still holding her up in the water. After a moment, she realised she was talking to her.

"Can you pull yourself along the side of the pool? I'll be right beside you, I won't let go, okay?" Ros had never been one for comforting people, but as she pulled herself towards the steps she realised just how much it could help. The girl stayed behind her, talking soothingly in her ear. It was several minutes before she was finally out of the pool, and she was directed over to a seat by the wall.

"Can you tell me what happened?" The girl was hunkered down beside her, but Ros wasn't sure she could explain it. She shook her head and stared at her hands instead, trying to get them to stop shaking.

"Are you OK?" She clenched her hands, and stood up.

"I'm fine. Thanks." She had had enough. She needed to get out of here, and she needed a drink. Preferably a strong one. But as she started to walk of the girl reached out for her arm.

"I'm sorry, but you really need to sit here for a few minutes, so we can make sure you're OK."

"I told you, I'm fine," Ros said, shrugging her hand off. "Thanks for your help."

Several hours later, her hair limp and wispy around her face, she stared into yet another double whisky. She was drunk, unbelievably so, and she couldn't decide which was worse: going into work in the morning, or getting back in the pool. The problem was, she had to do both.

-Three months later-

Leaning against the wall of the pool, Ros looked around her. People where swimming and splashing all around her, oblivious to so much. They were happy, carefree, and so unlike everybody that she worked with. It was the old age adage of sacrificing the few to save the many, and she supposed that she should be used to it by now. But every so often it slapped you in the face; a harsh reminder of what they gave up day and daily. Sitting there, Ros wondered what the man swimming in the lane beside her had been doing a few hours ago. And the woman giggling with her friend several lanes over, what about her? She figured it would be safe enough to bet that none of them had been disarming a bomb, or trying to ignore the resounding signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in a colleague. Even as she thought it though, she pushed it out of her mind. They all knew the score, knew exactly what the job entailed, so there was no point whingeing. Plus, the last time she let herself think about work in the pool, she had ended up almost drowning. It was not a mistake she was keen to repeat.

It had been over a week before she had ventured near the pool again. She had needed to build up the courage, and besides, she had been having enough problems with the psychologists – she figured she deserved a break. Needless to say, she had failed to mention this ritual to those imbeciles. Unfortunately though, her little act had done little for her progress. It had been a while before she has happy moving away from the side, and even longer before she dared lift her feet off of the floor. Her nightmares had returned in full force, plaguing her in between those she had of Jo. After a few weeks they had calmed down, as she got her little amount of confidence back. These days, if she was lucky, she could go a full week without any. Today though, was the big day. She had been building up to this all week – venturing out over the decline slightly, swimming up and down the shallow end, and even ducking her head under the water for a few seconds while she clutched the side. But today, she was going to swim a full length. She had been here for a while, swimming up and down the lane to the end of the shallow end and back. Her stroke had been improving – she had looked it up – and she could now do a passable breast stroke. Breast stroke was safe – she could keep her head above the water at all times.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed off the wall and slowly made her way up the lane. However, as the decline approached, she felt herself freeze up, and quickly put her feet back on the floor. Turning around, she swam back to side, before doubling back and trying again. However, once again, she felt the panic start to build and her feet slammed to the floor. Groaning quietly, she turned again, but this time when she reached the side, she was determined. She could hear her father's voice ringing in her ears, telling her not to be scared, telling her that she could do it. Pushing off again, she steadfastly kept her eyes fixed on the far wall, not looking at the floor. Ignoring the fear as it coursed through her veins, she focused on her breathing, and on moving her arms and legs. She almost felt as though she wasn't moving at all, but suddenly she could see the edge of the pool coming up in front. She had to fight the urge to lunge for it, keeping instead as steady as she could. She could hear her heart pounding, feel the blood surging through her body, but as she grasped on to the side of the pool, the sense of exhilaration was astounding. Grabbing on with both hands, she tried to catch her breath, even as she felt a huge smile creep onto her face. She had done it! Ros had always been better at self flagellation than at self praise, but she couldn't help but be pleased with herself.

It was only a few moments before she decided to swim back down, and she pushed off with much more confidence. She was actually swimming in the deep end! As she swam, she looked around, wondering if anyone else had noticed her momentous occasion. As she looked, she suddenly caught sight of the pool floor, and she realised that it had been a mistake. Feeling the panic well up inside her, she fought against it, trying to swim faster towards the shallower floor in front of her. It was a losing battle, but her trashing movement carried her over the rising floor, and when she went underwater she found her feet quickly hit the floor. Pushing off it desperately, she bobbed back to the surface, and scrambled through the water until she could stand. Her breathing was ragged, her whole body suddenly felt tired, and she mentally kicked herself. She waded back to the side, leaning heavily against it. She was the master at pushing herself to hard and getting away with it, but it seemed that here, that wasn't going to work. She was just going to have to be patient. Slowly, she pulled herself out of the water, and as she stood up she noticed that the female lifeguard that had rescued her was watching her. Seeing her gaze, the brunette smiled slightly, nodding her head towards the water. Realising she had noticed her short swim, Ros couldn't help but smile back.

-Five months later-

As Ros completed her twentieth length, she took a break, leaning back against the side. She couldn't help but be amazed at how things had changed in less than a year. These days, the drowning nightmares were gone, and even though they had been replaced by others, she couldn't help but be happy. It had taken several months before she had been confident enough in the water to do more than one lap at a time, and even longer before she was comfortable in the water, but she had got there. She still went swimming several times a week, but rather than it being another source of stress, she was finding it almost calming. She tried for thirty two lengths each time – exactly half a mile – and as she swam up and down her lane, she could let herself think things through. So much had happened lately that it had almost become her refuge when things became too much. Dealing with the new Home Secretary was complicated enough, but add on doubts about his allegiance and her well hidden attraction for him, and you had yourself quite the mess to sort out. Plus, that was before you took into consideration everything else that was happening. But, as she set off again, Ros realised that she was happy. She was getting more sleep, and having some place outside of work to go to was great. Of course, she was still a workaholic, and she still had issues with control, but some things would never change. Besides, being Section Chief gave her plenty of scope to allow her bossy nature to come out to play. As she passed over the deep end again, she couldn't help but think that maybe it was time to get a nicer swimming costume.

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Let me know what you think! xx


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